Behind Frenemy Lines

by Chele Pedersen Smith

  Lee wrangled free, catching up, handing her heels. “Well, I’m pretty partial to them,” he whispered.

  Gal felt the familiar chills of his technique and closed her eyes. Reflecting on their confined tryst hours earlier and the previous night's close call, she wondered why he was so intoxicating. Maybe it was his upbringing of cotillions and Swiss boarding school. Chivalry attracted her. It didn’t hurt that he was the total package, but she had to keep her wits sharps if she was to accomplish what she was meant to do.

  “Thanks….but they’re not helping now,” she frowned, back to reality. “Maybe you can think of something, Hombre. That is if you can stop sporting wood long enough to pass through the other side.”

  She was kidding, but her free hand reached back and discovered the truth. “What the hell, Cowboy? Seriously? Are you on meds or something?”

  “Sorry, I can’t help it. It’s you…”

  “Well, how is that going to help us get out of here? No one will find us. We'll be here forever, and no—”

  His lips clamped hers, muffling the rant traveling down the path. Her anxiety was closing in, and despite the stench of the damp sublevel, Lee's slight sweat and faint aftershave were a welcomed diversion. He surveyed the area, taking charge of the situation.

  “Okay, it looks like we have to smash a few bricks.” He chose the largest stone from the rubble, then chipped away to make a bigger gap in their escape plan.

  They maneuvered the underground maze. The silence hung thick, and partnered with the darkness, made the space narrowly suffocating. For sanity’s sake, Lee kept the conversation going.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Wrecked, but not bad considering. A little dizzy too. Not sure if it’s the bump on my head or being in the dark so long.”

  “Or hunger? I could eat a steer,” Lee confessed. “We missed dinner. Now I wish I grabbed a bun off the coffee service.”

  “I’d kill for a big burger,” Galaxy salivated. “You know those gluttonous monsters you Americans prize yourselves for finishing?”

  “Really? A burger…I thought you only ate veggies.” Her segregated reference to their country raised a flag, but he brushed it aside, trading it for more urgent matters.

  “Just because I have them at lunch, doesn’t mean I only eat bunny food. I love the guy stuff, but it doesn’t mean I want a guy gut.”

  “Hey, now.” He patted his mid-section. “I do an extensive workout.”

  Gal smiled, remembering his six-pack.

  They made their way through the rough basement. Every so often there were twists and turns.

  “There's supposed to be a bowling alley and a chocolatier down here. So you'd think we'd run into something somewhere.” Lee threw his light beam ahead as far as he could, making an arc.

  “This is no time for a date,” she teased. “But, I wouldn't turn down a box of chocolates!”

  “Is that how Viktor woos you?” The question had been burning a hole in his brain ever since he woke her.

  Gal stumbled over a few crumbled remnants, nearly twisting her ankle. “What? You know Viktor?”

  Lee steadied her by the elbow, bracing himself. “Are you married or seeing someone?”

  Amused by his worried jealousy, she shook her head, choking down a lump of humility. “No, I was engaged to him but…” She slid down the wall and sat on a pile of broken bricks.

  “Oh crap, he died, didn't he? I'm sorry. I'm a clod for bringing it up.” He smacked his head, taking a seat on a nearby heap.

  “No, you're not. He's fine, unfortunately. Alive and well as far as I know.” Galaxy sighed. “He left. I loved him, and he left. He double-crossed me, actually.” She was barely audible, feeling foolish for admitting it aloud, for falling for Vik’s games.

  “Double-crossed? You mean—”

  “I don’t get out much,” she offered with a sad smile. “We worked together on anti-government missions, and if you must know, not only was he a backstabber, it turned out he was married. I wasted so much time on him and invested my heart—for what, for him to leave in the middle of Christmas and hop a flight back to Russia to his little family?” She tossed a chunk of terra cotta.

  “Whoa—you hooked up with a Soviet spy?”

  “Yeah, silly me. That's what I get, right?”

  “No, he's a scumbag. If you want my opinion, you're better off without him.”

  “Thanks.” Their lengthy gaze said more than they were ready to admit. Gal hobbled to her feet. “Well, the way out won't find itself, will it?”

  They journeyed on until the flashlight dimmed.

  Lee flicked the screen. “Now what? I don't want to kill the battery. How's yours?”

  She dug into her suit jacket and switched on a bright light to their relief. “Airplane mode. See, I can be techno, but at least I'm not a nomophobe,” she teased. They continued on for a while. “So exactly how do you know Vik, again? I destroyed everything about him, so it's not like there's a paper trail. Are you spying on me when you aren’t screwing me?”

  “No, it's nothing like that!”

  “Yeah, that's it, isn't it?” she nipped, suddenly irritable. “You managed to fish your I.D. out of my secret compartment behind the center drawer! No one knows about it, so how do you?”

  “Ah-ha! You did steal my badge, I knew it!” He pointed a finger in her direction. “And then you have the nerve to blame me of false motives when you're the one who's a petty thief!” Nicked by betrayal, he stomped off a few feet ahead then called back, “Just so you know, I didn’t have to stoop so low to find out about Viktor. You were mumbling his name when you woke up.”

  “Oh…wow, I must have been really out of it if I called you that. I haven't seen him in so long.” She followed her words into obscurity, catching up to Lee, reaching out to touch his hand. “I'm sorry for snapping.”

  “Me too,” he muttered, ashamed. “I think we're letting the circumstances get the best of us.”

  Feeling edgy but relieved, he wasn't ready to extinguish their affair just as it was beginning to smolder.

  They took a break on a pile of bricks. “Gal, you had me worried for a second. I thought I had a dueling challenge on my hands, making our actions the last two days really bad.” He stroked her hair. “Not to mention messy. And dangerous. That's something I'm against.”

  “You're against danger?” she chuckled. “Then boy, are you in the wrong line of work! I'm sorry, truly—for everything. I told you I hadn't been myself lately.”

  “Well, I hope not everything!” he nudged. “But sounds like it’s still fresh. Are you sure we should be doing, ya know… this? Maybe it’s not the best idea.”

  “Absolutely! I’m tired of dwelling on him, and I’m glad to move on. You’re good for me.” She rested her head on his shoulder, then scooted away. “Unless you're attached?”

  “Nope. No one has roped this bronco,” he declared, pulling her close. “We sure wouldn't be here if I was. I don't hang my wash on someone else's line.”

  “Good!” Their eyes locked. “I mean, that we're both available. Okay, so we need to get out of here! We need food, showers, sleep.” Gal stood, brushing off crumbled bits of mortar, ready to plod on.

  The trek continued through the old basement. “Oh, FYI, Lee, I did take lasso lessons during an undercover rodeo mission once.”

  “Cool, I was hoping you had some skills. And just for the record, I didn’t snoop through your desk. I got a duplicate badge made. Different serial number and updated retinal scan.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Thank you.”

  “But now that I know about your secret compartment, I will.”

  She gave him a coy shove. “Hey, I guess I just panicked. Vik’s really messed me up. It's hard to trust anyone, you know?”

  Lee put his arm around her. “I get it. Relationships are complicated, especially in this business.” And, I'm going to watch you like a hawk.

  The path ran out in front of a door.

 
“Go ahead, see if it opens,” Gal whispered.

  “It can't be that easy, right?” Lee turned the antique glass knob, probably breakable if need be. The handle jimmied. “Just as I thought. Do you have a credit card or something?”

  “Why, because girls love to shop?” she scoffed, handing him her badge.

  He wrapped the lanyard around his hand for a firm grasp, sliding it between the doorjamb. After a satisfying click, Lee opened the creaky door, blowing off cobwebs from inside the frame. His light revealed coarse cement steps. “Well, here goes,” he said, taking Gal’s hand as they entered the threshold.

  “Where do you think it goes?” she whispered.

  “The GW bedroom?”

  “Very funny.”

  The narrow staircase spiraled steep, reeking of mildew. Lee suspected Galaxy was on the verge of losing it, so he reached behind, offering his hand. “How ya doing back there?”

  “I’m holding up, thanks!”

  Just then the crunchy slip of her shoe flaked off concrete crumbs. “Whoa! I'm okay.” She stopped to take a deep breath, kicking off her heels and nursing her ankle. “I keep convincing myself that we're almost there. So, are we? I can’t stand much more of this.”

  “We must be, right? I can't imagine this going on much more. I just want to get out of here. Can you believe we've been in the White House twelve hours?”

  Trudging up what seemed like one hundred flights, they finally faced another door.

  “Oh please don’t be locked,” Gal whispered. Lee tried the handle, moving it freely but the door didn’t budge. They leaned against it, exhausted and frustrated, thinking of plan B.

  “I bet it hasn’t been open in so long that it’s warped,” Lee concluded. “If we just push on it with all our might, we could pop it open.”

  “What might? I haven’t an ounce of strength left,” Gal sighed, feeling defeated.

  “Well, let’s muster what we can. Sometimes people get superhuman power in dire circumstances.”

  “Oh, right—that’s easy for you, Superman!” Taking a deep breath and on the count of three, they rammed into the door as hard as they could. Gal winced with pain, but it worked—the door swung in. “Yay!” their weak cheers triumphed, forcing it further and peeking in.

  “It is a bedroom!” Gal laughed.

  “As long as it’s not POTUS' quarters, any other room is fine with me!”

  “Wouldn’t that be a rude awakening?” They shivered, imagining the imploding chaos of explaining themselves to Secret Service.

  Venturing inside, they vaulted across the wide bed. Galaxy sunk into the pillows, partially swathed by lacy curtains flowing out from under a crushed velvet valance.

  “I feel like royalty!”

  “My spine is very grateful right now. You know, I have new found sympathy for shoving Talon Smythe into that locker in ninth grade,” he chuckled, stretching out.

  “That doesn't sound very nice,” Gal scolded in surprise. “Where's my All-American hero?”

  “I don't know about hero,” he hooted. “But before I joined the agency, I raised some hell on the ranch. That's how boarding school and I got acquainted. Ha, it was pretty embarrassing being expelled by your own mother, but in my defense, Tal deserved it. He wrapped up 'farm fresh' gifts and played Santa with the neighborhood mailboxes.”

  “That's terrible,” Gal gasped, not sure whether to laugh or be horrified.

  “He had a mean spirit. I'm pretty sure he did time in juvie.”

  “Wait, your mother had you expelled? That seems extreme. Don't parents usually stick up for their kids?”

  “She didn’t have a choice, being high school principal and all.”

  Gal winced. “Ouch, that would be mortifying. And what about Talon? I wonder how he turned out.”

  “He's an FBI agent.” They laughed at the irony. “We cross path sometimes, on much better terms, which is more than I can say for my gut. We have to find some food or a way out.”

  Gal propped herself up, looking around the room. “Shine your light. See if there are any signs to tell us where we are.”

  The roaming beam detected a Victorian décor in goldenrod and deep plum with a painting of Honest Abe anchored between tassel curtains.

  “I'll take the Lincoln Bedroom for one hundred, Alex,” she guessed when a spotlight fell on a museum plaque below the portrait.

  “I should have known. The bed seems extra-long.” An authority on height himself, he spread out like a snow angel. “Did you know Lincoln never slept in this room?”

  “Your history is messed up,” she snickered.

  “Well, he still used the sitting area as an office, and sadly his son died of typhoid fever in this bed.”

  Gal scrambled off, creeped out.

  “I'm sure there's been a revolving door of mattresses since. Plenty of other presidents and guests have camped here.” Patting the covers, he coaxed her back in, then whispered, “So, wanna do the Abe and Mary?”

  “I thought you were hungry?” she scoffed, amused.

  “I am.” He started nibbling her earlobes.

  “Well, how can we do that if they never slept here?” she cracked, cradling her collapsed stomach. “Too bad the dumbwaiter's broken. We could call up for room service.”

  “Hey, we’re not at the Plaza.” He swept a stray cobweb from her hair. “And if that thing hadn't hurled we probably wouldn’t be here, which is all my fault so let me make it up to you. Besides, when will we ever have this chance again?”

  “Ha, too late, I already used that reasoning earlier.”

  “The ticket's transferable for this ride too, you know.” He prickled whispers down her neck.

  The stimulating chills were arousing, the daring location alluring. If only she felt better. She knew his logic was true. It was like sneaking out when you're grounded— you might as well make it count. Maybe it was the delirium but wouldn’t it make a great story to tell someday? “Well, it is a Presidential Suite,” she smiled, straddling his lap. “I'd say it's our patriotic duty.”

  They lounged contently, smoothing the bedspread between them. “I think we just made history,” Lee sighed, caressing her arm.

  “Oh, is that what you'd call it?” she smiled. “Well, I'm afraid we'll be history if we don't feed our souls with something more substantial.” Spotting a plastic map on the small, round table in the sitting area, she stumbled off the bed, famished. “Fire escape routes. Maybe we can find the exit.”

  They studied the color-coded maze. “Okay, it’s almost six. Breakfast should be in the works. The Prez must be up or close to it if he's in town.” He creaked the door a smidge to survey the hall.

  All appeared still, so they crept out, getting a step in before distant voices forced them to duck inside just in time. Sighing relief, they shared a tender glance.

  Their forbidden adventure twinkled Lee's eyes with excitement, and suddenly, Gal felt bad for leading him on, for trying to derail him. He really was a nice guy. What was she doing? Girl, stick to the plan! But that was easier said than done. Whenever she vowed to resist his charms, she was never quite resilient enough to ward him off. So what exactly were they doing? Was this a real relationship or just a work partnership with benefits?

  “Good time for that voicemail,” Lee suggested. She followed him to the window where the heavy drapes offered an acoustic advantage.

  “…Well, I don’t want Fitzy Baker coming around here anymore. He’s not to get what he wants, understand?”

  “But what if it’s his due? He’s been unfairly shut out from his family.”

  “Are you on his side, Tom?” The Media Specialist must’ve shaken his head because he didn’t respond. Anita continued, “His parents are dead. There’s nothing to give him. He should go to Hyannis, try his luck there. If he even is who he claims to be. There isn’t any proof that he ever existed...”

  “Fitzy's a name, not a place,” Gal exclaimed.

  Chapter Six

  T he ruby red runn
er covering the marble floor absorbed their footsteps as they pranced ninja-style to the staircase. Sick from hunger and her injured head, the rectangular overview spiraling three flights gave Galaxy vertigo. She clutched Lee's jacket to keep from keeling, nearly colliding with a white-haired maid carrying up a tray. The steaming aroma of morning brew seeped through their nostrils, summoning them like a charmed snake.

  “Oh there you are, thanks,” Lee said, pouring two mugs and handing one to Gal. “You’re a life saver… Justine!” Scanning her name tag, he gave her a warm wink.

  She stared at them in amazement, a bit winded. “Sorry Sir, it took a while longer. The elevator’s out.” Reining in a snip, she was obviously annoyed at the inconvenience. They tried not to look responsible.

  “It’s all good,” Lee assured, raising his cup.

  Gal snatched two bagels off the platter with gratitude. Both parties continued on their way. On their descent into the lobby, Galaxy let out a nervous snort.

  “The trick is to act like you own the place,” Lee advised, taking an exaggerated bite.

  “But what a sight we must be. Do you think she's suspicious?” She devoured the bread. “Is it a coincidence the elevator is out?”

  “Probably. The cables can't all be connected. I doubt they still use that old dinosaur. It was bound to conk out, but maybe it had limited range. We should be out of here before she says anything.” They reached the first-floor landing and made a beeline for the exit, only to bump into Anita.

  “Oh,” Gal said. “Good morning.”

  She gave them a quizzical look. “Good morning, yourselves. Are you okay? You look a little beat up.”

  “We’re fine,” Lee assured with a smile. “We tripped over a dog walker crossing the street. Gal bumped her head on a stop sign post.” Entertained by the absurdity, he hid his grin behind the mug.

  “Oh yeah,” Gal remembered, touching her head. “Is it bleeding?”

  Anita examined it. “Yes, or at least it was. Do you have an appointment here this morning? It’s rather early.”